


3.42 AM

by Senei



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Bad Dreams, M/M, late night tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senei/pseuds/Senei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton wakes up from a bad dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3.42 AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DerKnochenbrecher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerKnochenbrecher/gifts).



Anton Shudder awoke with a start from a very bad dream about a very bad time. He rose slightly, confused by the sudden darkness when a second ago everything had been on fire. He was going to sit all the way up, but there was a grumble from somewhere near his left armpit and a pair of wiry arms tightened around his torso.

"Anton, lay back down," Larrikin's voice rose from under his mop of carrot coloured hair, visible even in the dark. "It was just a dream. Yer fine."

Anton lay back down. Larrikin readjusted himself, head on Anton's shoulder and leg thrown over his hips. Anton starred up at the ceiling through the dark. He hoped sleep would catch hold again, but after a few minutes of staring he found himself wide awake. "I might go make some tea," he sighed.

The blankets shifted and Larrikin had propped himself up on his elbow. Fingers pulled through Anton's hair and smoothed it out of his eyes. "Do you want to talk?"

"It's the same dream," Anton sighed again. He was whispering, even though it was just the two of them. There was no one else to wake up. "There's nothing to talk about."

Larrikin nodded. "Alright. Let's make some tea, then."

The light in the kitchen made Larrikin hiss on reflex when Anton turned it on. He had nothing on but for a pair of flannel trousers, and his bare skin was spattered equally with freckles and scars. Anton couldn't help but admire. Which got him a glare from the slighter, though no less powerfully built man. "Make yer tea," he grumbled. "Then let's go back to bed."

Anton chuckled and put on the kettle. They stood in silence as it boiled. Anton leaning against the counter, Larrikin shivering in the doorway.

It was obvious to tell when he got bored, because after about thirty seconds of that Larrikin crossed the kitchen and pressed himself up against Anton. Head resting on his broad shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. "I love you," he mumbled.

Anton felt heat colour his face. He had to look away. He still couldn't believe it, whenever Larrikin said that, even if it had been nearly 300 years since the first time. "I love you, too," he grumbled back.

Larrikin grinned and kissed Anton's cheek. "Kettle's boiled."

They broke apart and worked together to fix two large mugs of peppermint tea. Not their usual fair, but it was relaxing. And that was exactly what Anton needed. A nice relaxing mug of tea.

The bed was warm still. By the miracle of thick quilts that held heat well. Larrikin slipped in immediately, but Anton paused a moment. He watched Larrikin settle into the quilts and blow on his tea to cool it off. "Stop staring at me and get in bed."

Anton blushed.

He crawled into bed. Settled down into the pillows and quilts, and turned out the light. It was dark, save for some light that trickled in through the curtains from outside. Anton wasn't sure what it was from, the Midnight Hotel was in the middle of nowhere. That brought a frown to his face. He set his tea back down and got out of bed.

"What's wrong?" Larrikin asked.

Anton shook his head, pushing the curtains open slightly. Then he ripped them open. The forest was in flames, the field starting to smoke.

"Anton, what's wrong?" Larrikin's voice barely wavered.

Anton turned to look at him, eyes wide. His heart was pounded in his chest. He looked at Larrikin.

"Anton?" Larrikin was concerned.

Then his own eyes widened. He looked down at his chest. Blood beaded on his skin, in long lines that had once been scars. It flowed down his body, staining the blankets with red. 

"Larrikin!" Anton yelled. He dropped his tea and the mug shattered on the ground.

Larrikin looked back up at him, his mouth moving, but Anton couldn't hear him over the pounding in his ears.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't get to him.

And then he woke up.

The Midnight Hotel was quiet. Not even the sound of creaking pipes to disturb it. Anton stared up at the dark, wooden ceiling of his office.

He had fallen asleep at his desk again. Paper work scattered around, and his pen had rolled to the floor.

It was just a dream, he realized. Just a dream, and Larrikin was back there. Dead on the battlefield.

Without him.

Anton couldn't help himself. He cried. Tears rolled down his cheeks in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at aforementioned o'clock in the morning while I couldn't sleep, emailed it to a friend, and then was told to post it here. It hasn't been edited, and there might be some weird grammar/missing words, as I wrote it on my phone.


End file.
